


Shirts and Skirts

by Brave_Soul_And_Heart



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Anxiety, Arguments, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Secrets, Short Story, Soulmates, short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brave_Soul_And_Heart/pseuds/Brave_Soul_And_Heart
Summary: Yuuri and Victor have been living together for a month in St. Petersburg, but after an incident become distant. What was Victor hiding? And will they be the same afterwards?(Don't worry, they'll be better!)





	Shirts and Skirts

It had been a month since Yuuri moved to St. Petersburg with Victor, and neither of them had been happier. Their skating had improved, with Yuuri getting offhand feedback from Yakov, and Victor getting advice from Yuuri. The rest of the Russian team was benefitting as well; before Yuuri, Victor was an aloof figure that seemed almost unapproachable on his pedestal, but since Yuuri came into his life, everyone was subjected to his goofy smile and cheery conversations. From that, everyone felt comfortable going to Victor or Yuuri for advice, and the entire rink had improved. Yakov wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was glad Victor had run off to Hatsetsu.

Home life was great as well. Victor was a wonderful cook thanks to Yakov’s insistence all his students learn nutrition – though sometimes they switched up the cooking, Victor always had input – and Victor insisted on doing all the laundry, claiming that Yuuri’s barbaric “student method” of just chucking everything in at once and turning it on would damage and discolour the clothes in the long run. Yuuri was happy to do most of the cleaning, as it helped lessen his anxiety by only focusing on the task at hand. 

Everything was going perfect. At least, Yuuri thought so until an awkward incident. Victor was with Yakov for an early morning practice on their day off (Yakov wanted to make sure Victor was still in peak condition, and, despite the month back, had yet to meet the old standard so had to train in the morning of off days) and Yuuri had spilt coffee on the sheets. He knew Victor had put on washing before going out, intending to dry it “properly” when he got back, but the sheets needed to be washed ASAP. So Yuuri was going to hang up the washing on the pull out drying rack, and then wash the sheets. Victor would understand, they were expensive sheets. 

Yuuri stripped the bed and headed to the laundry with the load. He opened the door, walked in, and started to reach for washing machine when Victor launched in yelling “No!” He almost pushed Yuuri to the floor with the force he used to get him away from the washing machine. “What are you doing?” he asked, practically frantic. If Yuuri had to guess, he would say Victor was scared. Practically as scared as Yuuri in that moment. His anxiety had flared and he found it hard to speak.

Victor’s chest was rising with his quick breaths, and he could barely see Yuuri’s panicking. “Just,” he said, “just let me deal with the washing, okay?” It was a dismissal, and Yuuri left the laundry, heading for the bathroom. He needed a moment to calm himself. He took several. Eventually he washed his face from the few tears that slid down it, and reminded himself that Victor loved him – he was pretty sure Victor loved him, but he knew his anxiety, and knew it couldn’t be trusted, and for the last ten or so minutes it was saying _Victor doesn’t love you, Victor wants you to leave_ , which was a good indication that Yuuri need only ask Victor if he loved him. _But not today_ , Yuuri thought. _Not until things calm down_. 

Things calmed down almost immediately. As soon as Yuuri left the bathroom, Victor was acting like nothing had happened, and presented Yuuri with a healthy lunch. They ate and talked like normal, but Yuuri could feel the underlying tension. Neither brought it up, and that night, after a delicious dinner, went to bed still with nothing said.

This continued on for a week. Each day was tenser than the last, and the two skaters had become almost distant to each other, neither knowing how to address what happened in the laundry. And with each day that went by Yuuri’s resolve against his anxiety was dissolving, all coming to a head during practice the day before the next off day when Yuuri landed badly on the ice.

“Where is your head, Yuuri?!” Victor shouted across the ice as Yuuri carefully pulled himself back up. The entire week since the laundry Victor had been as cold as the ice they skated on, and Yuuri finally cracked, uncaring of the other skaters watching the two. “You need to pull your head out of your ass if you want to win!”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Yuuri shouted back, as viciously as he could. 

“I am your coach, and you’ve been slacking all week, like you’ve given up,” Victor retorted snarkly, skating over to Yuuri who had skated closer to the rink side. “Don’t you want to win?” His hard gaze bore into Yuuri, and Yuuri had had enough.

“Just shut up!” Yuuri pushed off for the exit, almost bowling Yakov over who had come to see what the fuss was about, and put his skate guards on.

“Yuuri! Get back here!” Victor shouted, but Yuuri was already heading for the locker room, still in his skates. “Yuuri!”

As he sat on the bench in the lockers room packing his things up hastily, Yurio came in. “Oi, Katsudon, what was all that?” he asked tentatively. He could see the older man was still fuming, and was worried about setting him off.

“Go away,” was all Yuuri said before he walked around the young skater and left.

****

Back at home, Yuuri was curled up in bed with Makkachin lying at his feet. It’d been over an hour since he’d gotten back, but his anxiety was still at an all time high. _He hate’s me_ , he thought. _He doesn’t love me anymore. He’s finally realised how incompatible we are. He’s going to ask me to move out. I should never have left Hatsetsu, I should’ve stayed and helped with the hot springs. My family would never turn me out, would never stop loving me. I’d have to give up skating competitively, but I could teach at the rink. He can go on without me. He doesn’t need me. He doesn’t love me_. Yuuri didn’t realise the entire time that he was crying.

The front door closed and Makkachin leapt off the bed to great his master. There was some quiet murmuring, then Yuuri heard footsteps come into the bedroom. Yuuri’s head was buried beneath the quilt, and didn’t have to close his eyes to feign sleep. The bed dipped, and Victor sighed.

“Yuuri,” he said, “please come out.”

But Yuuri didn’t even move, barely breathed. He didn’t want to talk to Victor right then. He wanted to be asleep, and back in his own bed, wishing the last year hadn’t happened. He was crying again. 

“Yuuri,” Victor pleaded. “I know you’re awake. Please, _please_ , come out and talk to me. Please.”

“Why? So you can yell at me again?” Yuuri asked spitefully. 

“I’m sorry, _lyubov moya_. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’ve just been under a lot of pressure lately, what with coaching and competing at the same time. We both knew it would be a lot, but I think it’s gotten the better of us today.” Victor tried to stroke Yuuri’s leg on top of the quilt, but Yuuri pulled away with a cold “Don’t.”

“Yuuri,” Victor tried, sounding on the verge of tears.

“Don’t, just don’t. It’s got nothing to do with skating. All week you’ve pretended like nothing happened, and- and closing me out, just because I went to do washing. Like how you behaved was normal, and it wasn’t, and you almost sent me into a panic attack and didn’t even notice how anxious I’ve been all week, all because _you didn’t want me to do laundry!_ What the _fuck_ Victor?! What the fuck is wrong with me doing laundry?! You never gave me any excuse, you just acted like it didn’t happen and ignored me for a week!”

Yuuri had worked himself up enough to sit up and face a pale and wide-eyed Victor. And silence reigned. Both were crying, but neither knew what to say. Yuuri huffed, and got out of bed, walking for the bathroom, ignoring the weak “Yuuri” Victor whispered, and shut and locked the door. 

****  
Yuuri didn’t come, even when Victor knocked for dinner, until it was late and Victor was asleep on the lounge suite. Quietly, he snuck the food into the bedroom, ignoring the blue eyes that had opened and followed him, and ate in the armchair by the window. 

It was a lonely night for both, and when Yuuri woke up on hiss off day, Victor had already left for the rink. He felt so bad for the things he said to Victor, and that Victor was decent enough to let him have the bed to himself. Despite Victor’s strangeness, he was still being Victor in a sense. The sleep had cleared Yuuri’s head, and he realised he was partly at fault too. Communication was always going to be a weak link in their relationship. So he resolved himself to talk civilly with Victor when he came home.

The day wore on, long past when Victor should’ve been home, and Yuuri was anxious again. He’d even taken Makkachin on a long walk to try and soothe himself, but it didn’t work as when he got home Victor was still gone. He wanted to give Victor space, but he also needed to talk to him, and decided to send him a message.

_Please come home. We need to talk._

He got no reply, but within the hour he heard keys in the door, and a shabby looking Victor walked in: eyes red, face scruffy, unbrushed hair, and yesterdays clothes. 

“Victor,” Yuuri said, trying to meet Victor’s gaze, but the taller man only looked at the floor. Yuuri hated that. “Please look at me.”

Victor looked up. It hurt that he looked like that at Yuuri. Distant. Defensive, perhaps. Not loving at all.

“You wanted to talk, so talk,” he said. 

Yuuri gulped. “Do you want to- ” Yuuri tried to say _sit_ but Victor was already moving to sit in the lone armchair in the living room. Alone, and away from Yuuri. “Okay.” Yuuri sat down on the couch which still had the blanket and pillow Victor had used, a reminder of the distance that had formed between them. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say.

It stayed quiet for a while, the only sounds coming from a dozing Makkachin, who was probably dreaming about chasing seagulls. 

Finally, Yuuri spoke up. “We’ve never been good at communicating, have we,” he said, shyly looking over at Victor who had taken a great interest in a loose thread on the armrest. 

“No,” was all Victor said.

“I guess I should apologise.”

“You guess, do you?” Victor scoffed, which hurt Yuuri.

“I _do_ need to apologise. It was wrong of me to yell at you, and leave practice, and ignore you. I was wrong.” Yuuri felt vulnerable then. He had been so honest in his apology, but Victor barely seemed to have heard it. I was only when Yuuri hiccupped a breath that he finally looked over, and his heart sank. Yuuri was the one looking away now, all his attention focused on not crying and trying to breathe, trying not to be forgiven out of pity, that he didn’t notice Victor sit next to him until he felt familiar arms wrap around him, holding him tight.

“No, _lyubov moya_ , _I_ need to apologise. This is all my fault. I never should have yelled at you, especially in front of the others, and I _should_ have been there when you were panicking. Both times. It’s all my fault. You have done nothing wrong.” He held Yuuri while Yuuri calmed down, then took a deep sigh. 

“Yuuri. The reason… the reason I didn’t want you t- to go in the laundry that day was… I…” he sighed again, seeming to struggle with what to say. He pulled away from Yuuri just far enough to stare into red eyes and wet cheeks and snotty nose, unrepulsed by the mess Yuuri thought himself to be. “I need to show you something.”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand and lead him to the bedroom. He sat Yuuri down on the bed and walked over to the wardrobe. “You have to understand, I’ve not shown anyone this. I’ve kept this to myself because I was so worried what people would think, and I was scared I would lose you if you knew.”

He opened a door from his side of the wardrobe, and pulled out the top draw, a draw Victor had asked Yuuri to specifically give him privacy for, and Yuuri thought nothing of it. But as Victor reached in and pulled out something.

It was a skirt. A woman’s skirt. Pastel pink and flowy. It was beautiful. It was Victor’s. 

“You own a skirt?” Yuuri asked.

“Not just _a_ skirt, this whole draw is full of- of feminine stuff.” 

While Victor waited for Yuuri to respond, Yuuri witnessed a side of Victor he’d never seen before, even the first time he made Victor cry, saying he’d retire. This was wasn’t love Victor was showing Yuuri anymore, this was himself, which was much harder to show. 

Yuuri still hadn’t said anything, so Victor continued. “I don’t- don’t see clothes and think of gender, I… I see something I want to wear and I get it! But… because of my public presence, I…” Victor was crying then, “I didn’t want, want people to think less of me, because I know how awful people can be and… and…” 

He couldn’t finish he was sobbing so hard, and Yuuri rushed over to him to hold him. Victor was still clutching his skirt as Yuuri brought him over to the bed to sit down. Yuuri let Victor cry onto him, as he had done so for Yuuri only moments ago. 

“We’re both a mess,” Yuuri jested lightly, rubbing soft circles into the taller man’s back, and Victor huffed in agreeance. “Did you think I would stop loving you just because you wear all kinds of clothes?”

“It sounds silly, doesn’t it,” Victor said, sitting up to see his love.

“A bit, but it’s important to you, a part of you you don’t show, and a big step to share that part with me. But it doesn’t change how much I love you, or how much or little I think of you, because ever since I first saw you skate I thought the world of you. Knowing you now like I do, I think there’s no one else in the entire universe _but_ you. You’re my soulmate, Victor. Nothing changes that.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor cried, before crashing his lips into Yuuri’s. The two shared a passionate, wet kiss, full of tears, snot and saliva. Hands were everywhere, and if Yuuri’s phone hadn’t gone off, things would’ve escalated. 

He picked it up as Victor moved to kiss and suck as his throat and neck, and saw it was his sister calling.

“Hello?” Yuuri answered. 

“Hey, little brother. Hadn’t heard from you in a while and was just checking up on you.”

Yuuri left the bedroom to talk with his sister, and Victor had an idea.

Ten minutes later Yuuri came back into the bedroom to find Victor wearing the skirt and pale pink thigh highs with lace. And nothing else. He was lying seductively on the bed, with his arms above his head, and one leg bending slightly over the other. He was smiling at Yuuri who’s mouth had fallen wide enough for Makkachin’s ball to fit in it. Yuuri shut the door, and the two lovers spent the afternoon between the sheets, tangled together.

****

Later that night, after an affectionately spent dinner, with Yuuri sitting in Victor’s lap, and each feeding the other from their forks, and then a luxuriously spent bubble bath, they laid together in bed with a clean set of sheets. Victor was curled onto his side, cuddling up to Yuuri with his head on the shorter man’s chest.

“Victor,” Yuuri said. Did you have something from your drawer in the washing machine last week? Is that that why you didn't want me going in there?"

“Mmmhmm,” he replied, sleepily.

“Okay." They were silent again, before Yuuri spoke again. "Victor, do you think we could go through your entire secret draw?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like today,” Yuuri said in explanation, which took Victor a moment to understand.

“You want to have more sex with me in women’s clothes?” he asked incredulously. 

“Is that okay? I promise I won’t be so rough,” he said, eying the now ripped thigh highs draped over the armchair by the window.

“Oh, Yuuri, of course! I would like nothing more.”

**Author's Note:**

> to anyone who read my humour shorts, you may know i was busy with studies, but i'm finally finished and trying to keep in the writing spirit! this is my first published angst piece, so any feedback is welcome (please don't be rude though). if there's enough interest, i may try and carry the story on in an explicit way *wink wink* so i've put it as uncompleted for now. happy reading!


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